


Hand Me Downs

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Castiel in the Bunker, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Multi, Sharing Clothes, Wincestiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean convinces Cas to borrow some clothes from Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand Me Downs

“Cas, you can’t wear that again.”

Cas did that weird tilt-and-squint thing he did when he thought Dean was being absurd.

“I wore the same garments for the first three years of my time on earth.”

Dean ran his hand through his hair. The shit he had to explain sometimes…

“That was before, man. You’re human now, and humans have to change clothes.”

Tilt. Squint.

“Why?”

“Because otherwise they get rank, that’s why.”

Castiel looked himself over, twisting to try to see his own back.

“We haven’t been on a hunt. I’m certain I haven’t gotten anything foul on these.”

“Doesn’t matter man. You gotta change. Sam, back me up.”

Sam looked up from his laptop, apparently noticing the conversation for the first time.

“What?”

Dean gestured at the rumpled angel with a resigned sigh.

“Tell Cas he’s gotta change his clothes.”

Sam looked him over.

“He looks fine to me.”

“It’s the _principle_ , man,” Dean groaned. “Angels can’t walk-of-shame it, it’s not right.”

Cas frowned.

“You didn’t find it shameful before.”

“Context, Cas. It’s the walk of shame.“

Tilt. Squint. Dean had the sudden urge to throw his hands up.

“Will you just take my word for it, man? I’ve been dressing my ass for two and a half decades, I know the rules.”

“Arguably,” Sam remarked without looking up.

“Shut the fuck up, Sammy.”

He rounded on Cas.

“At the very least, you have to change your shirt.”

Castiel looked down at the ground.

“I only have the one,” he said in a low voice. Sam looked up quickly, glancing between Dean and Cas.

Dean tried to remember if he had anything clean. There were laundry machines in the bunker, but they were industrial sized which meant Dean tended to wash his entire wardrobe in one go.

“You can borrow something of mine,” Sam offered helpfully. Dean grinned.

This, he had to see.

 

Sam didn’t have many more clothes than Dean, but most of them were clean because princess Samantha got antsy when his hamper got more than half full.

That’s how they ended up in Sam’s room, Dean sprawled across the bed sniggering while Sam dug through his duffel and Cas waited awkwardly between them.

“This is a little small on me… it should be fine on you,” Sam said, extracting a worn plaid overshirt. He slung it over a chair where it was quickly joined by jeans, a cotton tshirt, and a pair of boxers. Cas looked at the pile for a moment, then looked to Dean for verification.

“Strip,” Dean said.

Cas blinked at him, then shrugged out of his bulky red sweater. He dropped it to the floor, where it was quickly joined by his shirt. A line of small, dark bruises marred the strong muscles of one shoulder. Dean made a mental note to focus on the other side next time.

He met Sam’s eyes from across the room. Sam was smiling that knowing smile, the one he only did when he and Dean shared a secret. Cas kicked out of his torn jeans but Dean only had eyes for Sam, Sam and his cocky grin.

Sam and his shared secret.

The clothes were way too big. They might have been tight on Dean’s giant brother, but on the angel they were almost comically baggy. Cas looked between Sam and Dean, not understanding their laughter, and his wide-eyed confusion made the picture complete.

Dean loaned him a belt, showing him how to thread it through the loops of Sam’s oversized jeans. Hiked up as high as they would go, there were still a good four inches of extra on the bottom. The overshirt hung halfway to his knees.

Sam showed him how to roll up the extra material on the sleeves and pant legs, and watching them, Dean remembered teaching Sammy to do the same thing. Back when his massive little brother had still been his _little_ brother, and hand-me-downs had gone _to_ Sam instead of coming _from_ him.

Cas was practically swimming in Sam’s clothes and Dean had to admit that if it were possible for a six-foot soldier of the Lord to be adorable, then Cas was adorable now.

He rolled to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge and grabbing Cas by his giant flannel lapels.

“C’mere.”

He pulled Cas to him, resting his forehead against the angel’s chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath the familiar feel of his brother’s clothes. The clothes were clean, but they still smelled like Sam’s detergent and Sam’s shampoo and _Sam._

“Should we do laundry?” Castiel asked.

“Or get you your own clothes.”

“No,” Dean said. He breathed deep and the tension of the last month began to dissipate. “Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> Le prompt: looking for some happy domestic wincestiel! anything goes really, just sweet and fluffy :) 
> 
>  
> 
> I wrote, this is what came out. 
> 
> Can I mention that it's kinda hard to channel 'fluffy' while watching someone play Borderlands?   
> It's my sister's bday today and she's sitting next to me on the bed while I write. She's been working really hard and she's celebrating her bday by chilling all day.   
> I'm like, "I'm afraid you're gonna look over my shoulder and judge me" and she's like "yeah, like I'm in the mood to read *anything* today."


End file.
